The Prince in the Garden
by KR Blake
Summary: A princess wanders out into the palace garden to escape a party and encounters a certain daunting, blonde boy. One-shot. For Sarah.


**For Sarah **

**My sister from another mister**

**I can't even begin to thank you for how much you've done for me. **

**Love you *heart***

* * *

The princess sat up on her throne looking around at the party in front of her, bored. She hated parties. She hated dresses, and she hated this sparkling tiara her father always forced her to wear!

Suffice to say, she was never the princess her father had always wanted her to be.

"Allyson, smile!" her mother poked her arm jauntily, smiling broadly. "This _is_ your party, after all!"

The princess rolled her eyes at her always-a-bit-too-happy mother and took in a deep breath, plastering a forced smile on her youthful face. "I am smiling, mother." She said forcibly. Her mother gave her a flat look. "I promise, I'm just a little tired." She assured the queen. "I'm going to get some fresh air."

Before her mother could argue, the princess pushed up off the throne (a small feat, considering the weight of the dress her father and forced her to wear) and swept onto the ballroom floor silently, her eyes set adamantly on the large doors across the room. An escape.

She tried to move unnoticed through the crowd, but, well, that's not always easy when you're the birthday princess wearing about ten pound of red fluff as a "dress". Princes and delegates from visiting provinces alike asked her to dances, or complimented her on some part of her outfit. She smiled curtly and thanked them, declining their advances, and moved as quickly as possible out the large front doors of the ballroom.

Once out of the loud room, she breathed a long breath of relief, relaxing her stiff shoulders and slouching her back slightly. She hated standing up so straight. Too long standing like that made her feel like a wooden board.

"My princess?" one of the stiff guards standing by the door asked her as she walked calmly away from the loud chatter and waltz music that was her birthday. She glanced over her shoulder and smiled warmly, careful not to reveal anything. Princesses never got anywhere by telling their secrets. At least, not according to her mother.

"Carry on, gentlemen." She said curtly, nodding and walking out the front doors, into the warm night air.

She let her head fall back to the sky, smiling, as she walked deep into the palace garden. Slowly, she picked out the pins jabbed into her hair, letting her rich chocolate curls fall free around her shoulders one by one until they were all free, the pins left on some bushes for the garden staff to find.

"Why does he make me go to these stupid things?" she wondered aloud, turning the corner in the neat maze of hedges that was the garden.

"I'm guessing you're looking for a more intelligent answer than '_because it's your birthday_'?" a wry voice said behind her, making her jump. She turned cautiously, her eyes wide.

Behind her stood a boy, around her age, maybe a year or two older, in a dark suit with an amused smile playing across his rose-coloured lips. He was leaning against one of the stone fountains scattered around the garden at random, watching in amusement as her hands fell from her hair and her cheeks flushed with colour.

"That was not very necessary to point out." She mumbled, her eyes falling to her high heeled shoes nervously. He laughed and walked closer to her slowly.

"On the contrary, my princess." He said matter-of-factly. "You asked a question, and so I answered. I'm nothing if not a patriot, after all."

"It was rhetorical." She snapped.

He shrugged. "Details."

The princess didn't know what it was about this boy—maybe it was his perfectly floppy golden hair that seemed to shine a halo of silver around his head in the moonlight, or maybe it was his guarded, yet completely open hazel eyes—but she was intrigued. She wanted to know more. Even if he did answer questions in the most annoying ways.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"My name?" he repeated. She nodded. "Ah, yes, my name. It's a fine one, I suppose, though a little unusual."

She had to resist rolling her eyes. "That's not answering the question." She replied.

"It's not?" his voice was filled with an obvious innocence—it was like he treated this like a game. He was just playing with her curiosity, plucking it open, and then swiping it away with a clever chuckle. "Oh, darn."

She straightened her back automatically. "I am your princess!" she said, internally hating herself for playing the "princess" card. "Tell me your name!"

He just chuckled, taking another step forward. This time, though, she took a step back, glaring daggers into the boy.

"I wish I was obligated to do as you say," He said playfully, "but sadly, royalty does not command over royalty. Surely you have learned this, Allyson?"

Her stern expression faltered.

_Royalty…_

"Oh, shut up," she chastised him, narrowing her chocolate eyes evilly. He let his head fall back in a loud laugh.

"You're an eloquent one, aren't you?" he smirked.

"I don't believe that is shutting up, your Highness." She replied sweetly, her voice dripping in venom.

"Oh, please, Allyson," the infuriating boy scoffed, stepping closer, though this time she didn't take a step away. The space between them was small now—maybe a foot at most—but the princess didn't notice. She was too consumed in trying to notice everything else.

The way the moonlight bounced off the calm fountain water a few feet away. The sound the crickets made in the bushes. The fireflies dancing in the skies above the two. The stars shining in the black sky.

Anything but the prince.

"There's no need for formalities." He mused. "We're all human here."

"Some more than others." She muttered.

He laughed again. "I suppose I did deserve that one." He nodded.

"That one, a few others—who am I to pass judgement?" she retorted easily.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're none too fond of me." he noted, tilting his head downward, crossing his arms across his suit chest considerably.

"What gave it away?" she bit.

She expected him to laugh again—it did seem to be some kind of recurring pattern—but he only smiled softly and raised a hand to her face slowly. She prepared herself to duck out of the way (a little unladylike, yes, but she had never been one to follow the rules of etiquette) until his thin fingers found her way into her curls and pluck one last hidden pin from her hair. The last of her curls fell gracefully in her face, and he nodded in affirmation, smiling.

"Much better." He said lowly, taking her hand and turning it palm up and stretching her fingers out. "That was going to bug me."

The prince dropped the pin in her open palm and curled her fingers around it for her. His hands lingered around hers a second longer than they should have, bringing a warm blush across her cheeks. His smile turned from that soft, almost humane smile to his previous smirk, and he dropped her hand.

"You should probably get back to your party, my princess." He said. "I'm sure people are wondering where their guest of honour is."

He surveyed her once, his eyes grazing impressed over her red gown, impressed. It was understandable, of course, as her dress was simply extravagant. It was strapless and hugged her torso nicely, flowing out in layers from her waist and touching the cobblestone path under her feet. It was a rich red colour that made her feel like, well, a princess (in the metaphorical sense, of course).

He frowned slightly, though, when his eyes glided over her hair. He reached up (or would it be down, considering he was a good four inches taller than her?) and adjusted the tiara on her head.

"There. Perfect." He said, almost to himself, before looking up to the blossom trees above them. He reached up above her head and plucked the lowest blossom from its branch, bringing it down to under her dainty nose. Struck off guard, she eyed the pinkish flower blankly for a second before taking it numbly.

She had barely enough time to open her lips before he was gone, deep into the garden, leaving her confused and blushing, staring after his darkening silhouette in the night.

'_Maybe this night isn't _so _bad._' She admitted to herself as she walked down the cobblestone paths, towards the castle, smiling down at the soft pink flower in her hands, almost laughing at the fact that her cheeks surely matched their rosy pallor. '_Even if it is a party._'

* * *

**So how was that, Sar? Okay? Yeah, I know it was different than you probably thought, but my original idea wasn't working. But if it's any good, thank Kiera Cass, 'cause right now I'm reading _The Selection_, which is the first princess story I've read in just about forever, so. Yep. **

**Oh, and if any of you were wondering, I was never officially taking requests, my friends were just suggesting for one-shots over twitter, and I read the prompts and got ideas and then got excited and ya. **

**-KR Blake Ω **


End file.
